Males of Wormwood Mars
Robert Pollard
Mental life in the public health department
You're with it, I need to be outta sight
They wrote as if nature itself had commanded
Get with it or we have your number
The ultimate surface map
Bearing familiar objects
Country space menage
We have your rope, enough of it
Throw down your magic and give up, you're under arrest
Make ahead go back, and do no longer hack on
The loser's grip is filled with modern poets
You're in it, the best seat in the river
In the black puddle of stars
In the torso of a snake
From romantic Earth forms
The visitor reveals his knowledge to us now
His many contacts, a drop of secret blood
Of anything to be part
We shall strive, skinned alive
We shall strive, skinned alive
We shall strive, skinned alive